The Fragile Embrace

I saw you in my dreams again. You arrived quietly, like a bird resting on the edge of my solitude, your presence soft enough to make me believe the night was merciful. I held you a little tighter this time, my arms becoming the walls of a house I wished you’d never leave. I whispered words that only dreams can hold— promises too fragile for daylight. I knew, even as I pressed you closer, that you were slipping through my fingers, a river running toward the sea. I knew when I woke, you would be gone. You always are. But I held you anyway, the way the earth holds the rain knowing it will evaporate. The way a poet clings to a word that won’t stay on the page. And when morning came, I woke to an empty room filled with your echo. Your absence was a shadow that stretched across my bed, a reminder that even in my dreams, you are not mine to keep. Still, I will close my eyes tonight, and wait for you to return. For even a fleeting touch in the dark is enough to keep the heart alive, enough to make the pain of waking a price I am willing to pay.